After a foggy morning, the afternoon sky of April 6th turned brilliant blue. I headed out to the Presidio for a Sunday walk. Turning off Broderick, I strolled west on Broadway toward the Lyons steps. I noticed police cars lining up and people milling outside the Getty mansion. A condo-owner stood peering down the street. "What’s going on?”," I asked.

The Getty mansion sidewalk often teems with activity -- SFPD, media, canopies, waiters, and revelers. The street is cordoned off for parties. On that spot two holidays ago, an owl-eyed man passed me looking a lot like Woody Allen. In the gazebo there, Don Johnson got married. Today, two women in little black dresses gaily informed me Barack Obama would arrive at a 5:30 fund-raiser. “"You better Change,”" one of them laughed.

I insisted I was dressed for a walk in the woods. Then I got the joke, chuckled, and changed my mind, if not my clothes. “I'’d better stay around for this.”

A couple from Pinole calling themselves “passersby” speculated secret service agents would spirit the Senator in the back entrance. “There was a bomb-sniffing dog unit over there.”

“Look, there’s a person in a top hat and shiny suit riding a bicycle on the sidewalk across the street.” said the wife. “You’re right,” smiled the husband, “I’ll go take his picture.”

‘I’ll never see Obama,’ I thought, ‘But I can interview the bicycle guy for a story.”

I ran down the street after the shiny suit. “Excuse me, sir. Wait! Wait!” Catch that man on the bicycle!” I stopped him as he doubled back.

“Why are you riding the bike?”

“This is on behalf of Barack. I don’t have the $2,500 dollars to go to his dinner. The least I can do is show up and be supportive to his cause.”

I was talking to Greg Landtbom, a fourth generation native from a distinguished San Francisco family. “My 95-year-old aunt marched with Martin Luther King in Selma in ‘65. My dad was in the FBI. He was involved with breaking the code for Pearl Harbor. My grandfather drove a dynamite wagon in the 1906 earthquake.” Greg is a carpenter who works with antique stained glass.

Greg peered at me through sky blue glasses. He wore a metallic top hat, vest, suit coat, pants, and running shoes he metalicized himself. The outfit shimmered like a rainbow in the sun, flashing spectral colors --- blue, crimson, gold, yellow, and green. He sat on a one-of-a-kind sparkly blue bike with a uniquely designed stop gear.

“I’m a rolling fishing lure, trolling for attention,” he joked. “But, I’ll let Barack have the attention. I just want to see him do unusually well.”

“This gives us hope for the future. Barack is coming to town, and Mark Penn, Hillary Clinton’s chief strategist, just resigned. Her campaign is coming undone. She owes a lot of people money. Jesse Unruh, (former California State Assembly speaker) wrote, ‘Money is the mother’s milk of politics.’ If you don’t have the freight, then that’s too bad.”

An SFPD motorcade rolled slowly up Broadway toward the crowd, flashing red and blue lights onto Greg’s shiny suit.

People shouted, “Barack! Barack!”

“Is he there?” There! Oh, My God! There he is!”

The small crowd cheered and clapped. Obama emerged from the limo and strolled in our direction. His thin figure moved gracefully in his impeccable suit. Heading straight for Greg, his familiar smile spread wide across his face.

“What’s going on, guys? Did you arrange for the nice weather?"

“We tried,” said Greg.

With a nod at Greg’s suit, he kidded, “I was thinking of running for President wearing that, but I wasn’t sure.”

Ever on the prowl for the sound bite I asked, “Can you give me a quote?” (I immediately felt like an idiot.)

“I was just going to shake your hand. I wasn’t going to give any quotes.” That simple statement dissolved all barriers. Barack Obama was completely human, and I felt that when he shook my hand.

“I am so honored!” I cried. His clasp was surprisingly warm, his grip light. He moved easily around the circle.

“Thanks for your help today,” he said. “I appreciate you guys.”

“Thanks,” said Greg, respectfully subdued. “Nice to meet you. Good luck.”

“Good to see you!” said Barack.

“You’re going to win,” I promised.

“Thank you. Thanks, you guys.”

A spattering of happy cheers and claps erupted from the crowd, as he moved off into the Getty mansion.

Suddenly, Greg shouted in his wake, “You give us hope for the future!”

“My God!” I cried. “I’m never going to wash my hand.”

“Well, that’s going a little far,” joked the woman next to me. “What a nice guy!” Her voice lilted in surprise and delight.

“He came in the front. He didn’t even sneak in the back door. Unprecedented!” I was ecstatic “Pardon the pun. This man’s going to be the President!”

“I’m going to have to go lie down, okay?” laughed Greg. “I’m so happy I can’t stand it!”

“You can shake my Barack Obama hand.” I offered Greg my newly anointed palm.

“And mine as well!” He held up his fingers laughing gleefully.

Channeling Obama, Greg exclaimed, “He goes, ‘Oh, that guy in that suit! Wow!’ He came right over.” It was true. Obama was drawn toward us by Greg’s flashing silver attire.

“I’ll give you that suit if you win!” Greg promised the now-vanished Senator.

“You’re magnetic,” I laughed.

“Coming to you live from San Fran-psycho, I am a rolling force field,” Greg agreed triumphantly.

Greg’s shiny suit drew to us two men who also saw Barack, Steven Dewindt, originally San Franciscan, but now an actor living in Pasadena, and Richard Perillo, a neuropsychologist living on Nob Hill.

Mr. Perillo asked, “Have you seen “Taxi To the Dark Side?” In that movie, “McCain is there objecting to torture.” However, he pointed out that when Bush recently vetoed the anti-torture law, McCain did a complete turn-around and supported it.”

Discussing his friend Steven’s small part with Nicholas Cage in “World Trade Center, Richard adamantly asserted, “If Obama doesn’t become President, this country is finished. I come from New York City. Everyone was sympathetic after 911 because they love New York. But Bush did a remarkable feat. He managed to take that position and turn a sympathetic world against us. Only somebody like Barack Obama will be able to build those interpersonal relationships so people will say, “Wait a minute. Maybe Americans aren’t all that bad.”

I agreed. “He built that bridge shaking my hand, skin on skin. That’s the kind of guy he is. He makes a direct connection.”

Steven Dewindt said, “I’m so honored to be here to see this. His smile is so charming. He feels genuine. I feel like he’s been sent for us to do the work, but he needs our help to get it all done.

Said Greg, “We wanted to be here in this moment. There is hope for the future with this guy.

“That’s right. There is hope,” said Mr. Perillo.